That Which We Call a Rose
by Phantasmik
Summary: In which Shisui fails to romance Itachi repeatedly. But that's okay, because Itachi's kind of fond of him anyway. AU. Slash.


**A/N: **Written for **theirempires** over at the **bitter_nakano** minific fest on LJ. Shisui failing to romance Itachi repeatedly. Written to Bare: A Pop Opera's song** Auditions.** For the lulz, you should totally pop over to youtube and listen to it.

* * *

In retrospect, it had probably started the week that Itachi had sneered at his homework and declared that Juliet was a fool to ever fall for someone who wailed at her through a window. Just then, he hadn't noticed the way that Shisui's eyes had gone sly or how he'd taken to walking around reciting Romeo's lines with a fervor in his voice and a grin splitting his face.

It had, however, been abundantly clear when Shisui had shown up at his window two weeks later, rose clenched in his teeth and hand gesticulating wildly. It wasn't the best way to be woken at one in the morning when he had classes the next day, but it was mildly amusing in its own way.

"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Jul- shit, _Itachi_ is the sun."

He watched his cousin through the window, tapping his fingers on the sill and regarding Shisui with an expression caught somewhere between homicidal and amused.

"Shisui, go away. I have a test in the morning."

Shisui gasped, hand going to his heart. "He speaks! O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art-"

Slamming the window did nothing to cure his headache and absolutely _nothing_ to help him back to sleep, but the slightly muffled "Hey!" sure made him feel great.

.

"Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; Henceforth I never will be Uchiha."

He stifles a laugh with the back of his hand and doesn't turn around to face his cousin. Before him, Sasuke is still proving that he's utterly incapable of operating a pair of chopsticks, but is now also craning his head around in an attempt to better see Shisui over Itachi's shoulder.

"Brother, what's he talking about?" he asks in a stage whisper, getting his elbow in his bowl of rice. Itachi smiles as, behind him, Shisui breaks into a long line of dialogue, stumbling over "Had I it written, I would tear the word."

He stoops down next to Sasuke and curls his brother's fingers into the proper position once more. "Pay him no mind, Sasuke. Eat up."

Standing, he glances over at Shisui, allowing the smallest of smiles to curve his lips. His mother is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking puzzled. He scoops up his own dishes and brushes past his mother, heading towards the sink. The laughter is creeping up his throat again as Shisui's voice becomes a bit strained with just his mother and Sasuke as an audience.

He swipes a sponge around the insides of the bowl, washes the sticky rice out. Calls over his shoulder, "Copyright infringement will get you nowhere, Shisui."

Muffled, he hears his mother say "Shisui darling, you should probably go now."

The door slams sulkily on Shisui's way out, and Itachi gives into his urges and laughs into the curve of his wrist.

.

"Dinner and a mov-"

"No, Shisui."

.

"L is for the way you look at me-"

"Shisui, I'm between classes right now. Stop calling me."

"O is for the only one I see"

"I am hanging up now."

"Veeeeeeeee-"

The sound of his phone clicking shut is horribly loud in the mostly empty classroom and it's only when he glances around at the faces of his bewildered classmates that he realizes that they'd heard every bit.

.

"So, I hear the Nakano is lovely this time of year-"

Not even bothering to hide his quiet amusement, he slumps against his window frame and regards the boy attempting to scale the trellis fondly.

"You're climbing up to my window to tell me that? And people think that I'm strange."

"Itach-"

Laughing, he shuts the window behind him.

.

Three dozen roses are sent to his Forensics class, and he's elbows deep into the cadaver's intestinal track when the delivery guy tries to offer them to him.

He gives the man a cool look, indicating the scalpel with a raised eyebrow.

The man sets the bouquet in an empty chair and flees the room.

(No one but him is there on the way home to see the way he clutches the 36 roses to his chest, a silly grin playing around the edges of his lips.)

.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, all my base are belong to y-"

.

His room smells like flowers. Shisui has managed to unscrew three of his regular lights and replace them with red bulbs, which is a bit more creepy than romantic. There are candles of all shapes and sizes scattered across every inch of available space. _Flower petals_ coat his bed. And the floor.

In the center of the room there's a table with chocolates, champagne, and two plates of spaghetti set atop it. Itachi carefully doesn't think about the fact that Shisui was undoubtedly thinking of Lady and the Tramp when he'd orchestrated this. Quietly, Frank Sinatra croons about flying him to the moon while Shisui tries to follow along, grinning at him from his seat.

At Itachi's shoulder, his mother is wringing her hands, saying "I tried to tell him not to come in, but he was just so _sweet_-"

He heaves a sigh and steps into the room, shutting the door behind him.

Shisui beams.

"You couldn't have just said you liked me, like anybody else, could you?"

Shisui's grin widens and in the corner, the song comes to an end. A click. It restarts.

"But Itachi, where's the romance in that?"

Quietly, he resigns himself to a headache and slides into the chair, already reaching for the champagne.


End file.
